


With Friends Like These

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asshole Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Malia, F/M, Never over this, POV Malia Tate, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, You mean actually Stiles Stilinski?, i'm so angry, stiles is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9916343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: What should have happened when Stiles was being a total dick in season 5.





	

Malia stormed through the Stilinski house, not like she belonged there, but like she was taking it over. Stiles squawked at her, as if she’d never been in his house before and was breaching some contract. She didn’t give a fuck that he’d apparently broken up with her and that meant she was supposed to leave him alone. It’s not like he communicated that and even if he had taken the time to do so, Malia wouldn’t have listened. This wasn’t about her and Stiles or their relationship. This was about their best friend. 

Stiles frowned when she didn’t say anything and shouted, “Malia, what the fuck, get out!” He was angry? When Scott was trying to help him, save him, save everyone, and should be angry but was blaming himself? He was being a good friend to someone who obviously didn’t give a fuck about him. 

Malia wanted to kill him. “Stilinski,” she snarled, getting right into his space, eyes blue with conviction. Stiles didn’t back down. He jutted out his chin, straightened his spine, but his eyes were empty and dead. Malia huffed and turned her back on him, barely able to deal with being near him, being in the house they had spent so much time in together. It still smelled like her there, even in the kitchen where they were having their standoff. A part of her missed him, but that part was small compared to her piece that wanted retribution for Scott. 

Stiles grabbed her shoulder and yanked her towards him, but Malia spun around and tore out of his grip. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms, eyes dangerous. “If you aren’t here to help, get out,” he said, and Malia couldn’t believe that she had loved this person, that this person was the same Stiles that was Scott’s best friend. 

“How dare you.” She slammed a finger on his chest, growling lowly.

“My dad,” he tried to say, but Malia cut him off incredulously. 

“Is going to be fine! Scott, on the other hand, isn’t healing. And guess who decided to have a little tussle with him, blame him,” Malia’s voice was shaky and started to crack, “leave him behind? He died Stiles! Do you even care?”

Stiles cringed away from her words, but didn’t answer, choosing to glare at the floor instead.

Malia closed her eyes and sighed before walking away from him, for the last time. She wasn’t coming back.

“Mal,” Stiles called after her, and something she had been constraining inside her tongue snapped. 

“You have no right!” she said, still heading for the door in the shell of what once was her home. “You had better fix things with Scott, or you’ll lose him too.”

“Wait, please.” Stiles said with desperation and exhaustion creeping into his voice. Malia’s heart lurched at the sound but she buried it.

“You broke up with me, remember?” She felt cold, unemotional but she opened the front door too hard and banged it against the wall. 

Stiles gaped at her, stuttered out an excuse as she slammed the door behind her. She had better things to do than deal with then selfish cowards.


End file.
